Ulterior Motives
by Silindro
Summary: Oneshot. Spare time leads to fulfilling activities both upstairs and down. Carlisle x Esme


Note: If you'll remember, in the beginning Edward and Esme posed as siblings. This is within that timeframe. Also, none of these bits I write have real plot. I just think there aren't enough contributors to this little section of the fanfiction world.

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Ulterior Motives** ---

The noxious smell of paint fumes greeted Edward the second he opened th\e front door. There hadn't been anything amiss in the house when he'd left for a walk, but now that he was back he wondered what kind of demolition warranted a quick coat of varnish in the half hour he'd been gone. Esme was the only one home, and the thought of her destroying something was almost laughable.

Then again he knew her love of all things domestic… And she _had_ been considering a new color for the spare bedroom.

"Esme?"

"I'm in the sitting room!" she called out.

Edward rounded the corner, expecting a mess. Much to his surprise there was no damage, only Esme with her bare feet propped on an ottoman and a small bottle of polish in her hand. The tiny brush stained her toenails a deep crimson with each stroke, darkening the nail to a color reminiscent of blood.

"Until this moment it never really occurred to me that there was a woman in the house."

Warm chuckles accompanied the remark. She grinned at her "brother" and said, "Have you considered me one of the boys this whole time?"

"Well no, but you've never done something so… feminine."

"Decorating the house is man's work, then?"

"You know what I mean," he grumbled.

"Yes, I know what you mean. I thought it would look nice. A girl has to make herself up occasionally."

Edward made a noncommittal noise and excused himself from the room. He went and found a seat at the piano where he'd left the papers of his latest composition. He knew Esme enjoyed his music, and her good mood was somewhat infectious. The initiative to play began to tug at his fingers.

When Carlisle returned home hours later he could hear Edward tinkering around on the keys, testing the sounds of various notes. It was a common practice. Carlisle himself enjoyed the music just as well as his wife, and he knew by the sound of Edward's work that there was a happy atmosphere in the house.

He placed his hat and coat on the rack by the door. Although they were unnecessary to his needs, he still kept up his habits after three hundred years, tailoring his motions to human life. And he thought it was a nice coat.

"Evening, Carlisle," Edward greeted. His fingers were shifting rapidly between two keys.

"Working on anything good?"

"Nothing special," he answered. "Just passing time."

"I can't think of a better way," Carlisle smiled.

"You obviously haven't been upstairs yet," Edward murmured.

Carlisle's eyes trailed to the staircase and his nose picked up on the floral scent of his wife. He wanted to question Edward's comment, but he had gone back to his piano, moving his fingers in a practiced melody across the keys. Edward ignored the mental question as well, but it wasn't rude. He had been practicing his ability to block out unwanted thoughts and voices for months.

"I'll be in my room," he said distractedly as he moved towards the second floor.

The door was closed when he reached the end of the hall. The anticipation of what he would find on the other side had him walking at a very inhuman pace. He gripped the doorknob tightly enough to dent the brass, causing a slight creaking noise that was heard inside.

"Don't break it!"

Carlisle chuckled as he leaned back against the door, closing it with the weight of his body.

"Your _brother_ told me that I had a surprise waiting upstairs."

"He's such a child sometimes, spoiling my fun like that," she pouted.

"Maybe next time we'll play a little role reversal and he can be your son instead," Carlisle joked. "Though I don't imagine the idea of revisiting secondary school would have much appeal for him."

"I'm not _that_ cruel," she countered.

"You are many things, my dear."

Esme was dressed in a thin, silk nightgown that covered what were most undoubtedly bare legs and feet beneath the long fabric. She looked lovely in the smoky pink cloth with her skin looking exceptionally luminous in the dim light of the lamp on the nightstand. She was reclined on the bed, with soft pillows to support her position. As he walked closer he noticed her toes peeking out from the bottom of the gown.

"What is this?"

He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for one of her feet, gripping it tenderly to inspect. He ran a curious finger over the nail and the polish that she had discussed earlier in the parlor with Edward.

"You've never painted your toenails before," he commented.

"There's a first time for everything," she said. "What with all this spare time and money laying around, a girl's got to have a bit of fun."

"Fun? I'm not fun enough?" he grinned.

"During the daylight hours, Dr. Cullen."

"Oh well if that's a subtle way of telling me to adjust my timing, consider me a changed man."

She grabbed a pillow and swung it at his head. The cotton bounced back enough to make a second swing that he expertly dodged. Just as quickly, he grabbed her leg and used it to pull her into his lap. She found herself trapped in his arms before she had the chance to act. The pillow fell uselessly to the floor.

"I like your toes very much," he nodded. "Almost as much as I like the rest of you."

"Oh, you have favorite parts then?"

"Mhmm…"

"Do tell," she encouraged as she played with the tie that was still fastened around his neck.

"Well for starters I think you have the most beautiful hair." A free hand came up to bury itself in her locks, brushing out some of the misplaced tresses from when he had grabbed her before. He brought them to his nose, inhaling the scent of shampoo and expensive fragrance that she kept on the sink in the bathroom.

"And your eyes…" He leaned down and brushed his lips over her eyelids. "They're indescribable."

"They're yours," she added. "They're the same."

"Shh, you're interrupting my train of thought. Where was I?"

"Eyes," she grinned.

"Oh yes, your eyes. They go so well with your face – which is quite lovely itself. I enjoy looking at you."

His fingers traced down to her lips, outlining the shape slowly. His thumb brushed against the skin, dipping ever so slightly into her mouth. She bit down gently as her tongue reached out to taste his skin. She could feel his eyes focusing on her mouth as she carried out the action.

"Esme…"

"You didn't finish," she said with a final nip at his finger.

"I don't think I need to," he said seriously as he pinned her down against the feather-soft mattress. "There are better ways of explaining this to you."

Downstairs Edward noticed the stop in their conversation. Although he hadn't been listening to the words, it was almost impossible not to at least hear the foggy intonations through the walls. At least when he worked on his piano the sounds around him became more difficult to focus on. With the music he could lose himself and forget the world around him for a short time.

As his composition gained structure he began to play with the passion that was undeniably reflected in the physical and emotional love upstairs. His piece was a perfect accompaniment for the woman that was fast becoming the glue holding their small family together. Regardless of his own lonely existence, he was happy to create a piece for her that reflected the many roles she would be sure to fill over the years.

Esme's song filled the air for the rest of the night…

---

Note: You can thank my Literature professor for cancelling office hours without notice. This thing was finished because I was at school two hours early with nothing to do…

_**It's a fanfiction sin to read without reviewing. You're going to go to Hell, buddy.**_


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